


Cake-less Coffee for the Dawn

by Aliada



Category: StartUp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliada/pseuds/Aliada
Summary: Realization felt good. Like hot, strong coffee on a cold day. He felt intoxicated. Even his face felt unnatural. Tense muscles. His heart sending waves of burning energy through his body. It had never been so loud.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WillowGrove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowGrove/gifts).



> Thank you so much for your support and encouragement!
> 
> English isn't my first language, and I have no beta, so sorry for any possible mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of StartUp. They are the property of their creators. No infringement intended.

 

Realization felt good. Like hot, strong coffee on a cold day. He felt intoxicated. Even his face felt unnatural. Tense muscles. His heart sending waves of burning energy through his body. It had never been so loud.

He’d seen a lot of blood in his life, but this time it was different. It wasn’t just on his hands or his shirt – it was _inside_. He saw himself taking it in. Drop by drop, with a terrifying realization of reality. It was his reality now.

If one was to ask Phil Rask what he was doing with his life, he’d always have the answer. But would he have it this exact moment?

Bad things never looked as dark on the surface as they did inside. It was there now, growing and blossoming. Also, it was red.

The process was complete.

***

Phil liked Pauly’s smiles. They were constant, solid. Good. And just the time he wanted them.

Not going overboard. Staying put. Wasn’t that the golden rule?

Appreciation was something he learnt to do a long time ago . Small things. Small pleasures which kept you going. Sometimes, madness was just a step away, so you had to put something in-between.

He was quite good at that.

His wallet was empty, and so was his apologetic smile. Maybe, it looked usual, he could be wrong about that. Practicing took ages, after all – it couldn’t just evaporate in one night.

Yet, he still missed it. The feeling of genuine emotion, the luxury of letting it go. The luxury of being himself.

Coffee was good. Coffee would keep him right. Maybe, he won’t even have to close his eyes and see her awkwardly stuffed arm. Her bloody stuffed arm.

His eyes felt heavy. Tired. Maybe some sunshine wasn’t such a bad idea. He played with the thought for a few seconds tossing it around in his mind.

No, that wasn’t right. Not right.

He just needed something to look at, that’s all. Something real.

Crumbs falling onto the ground. Children.

He could also look at the leaves. Nice calming color. Casual enough.

But there had to be something else.

To add the _color_.

A man and boy. Four steps. He used to have a balloon too. He had a shitload of them now, all waiting to burst and leave him deaf and helpless. The first one already did, apparently.

Maybe, that’s why there was that _noise_ in his ears.

Maybe…

One more card change. Quite a plot for some drama with high-pitched shouting and running around. There were times when it felt good, though – he could even remember some of them.

His heart wasn’t as loud this time, but it did do its fair share of work as far as he was concerned.

It _wasn’t_ there.

Wasn’t there.

His throat contracted, blocking the air.

Right.

_"I know you’ll be back."_

Smile. Just do the smile.

His face didn’t appear to be listening, though.

Giving up control wasn’t much fun. He felt like locking himself somewhere and trashing down everything he could see.

Helplessness. Despair. The things he feared most were waiting for him now.

Just around the corner. All he had to do is reach out.

Pauly looked a bit unsure, and it wasn’t right. Pauly had to smile.

Phil tried to get his lips move, but to no avail.

'Fucked up' got a quite new meaning, and it was nowhere near the end.

Could a man live a normal life with memories of a dead, blood-coated body popping up in his head from time to time?

He’d still have to learn how to answer that.

He had to answer a lot of things throughout the years. This one couldn’t be the hardest one, could it?

The handshake was surprisingly honest. They both would have to take the bitter pill this time. No way out.

It was _her_ skin he was touching the last time, but Pauly didn’t need to know about that.

A coffee man had to stay a coffee man.

He had broken this rule once, and now, he was paying for that. And what a price was that.

Phil turned around and walked away, hot, steaming coffee in his hand. His fingers didn’t feel her skin anymore.

He took a sip and tried to forget about the cold.

It kept reminding of itself.

***

Dirty bag on his head. Unconsciousness. He’d say there was fear as well, but it’d be a lie. Quite a logical lie, though.

Pain in his muscles. It was everywhere – not just his face. His back, his arms, his legs. Must be nerves.

Disorientated. Confused. Just one of the many scenarios he had been playing in his head over and over again, until every possibility turned into meaningless blur and threw him into exhausted sleep.

Then, he took his coffee, and everything was fine again.

 _Fine_. He liked the word. So formal, neutral. Empty.

Deprived of emotions. Deprived of madness.

The images flew into his mind. Reminding.

Her blood inside of him. He could feel it. Dark, forbidding. Ruthless.

A germ of fear flinched and broke down leaving a rush of adrenaline behind.

His heart wasn’t thumping this time, it was pounding.

Strong, steady rhythm.

He listened to it so many times before – when he failed, when he got up again.

Winning had always felt good. Actually, nothing he had ever experienced felt better. Even if it was just a phantom. Even if it was nothing more than a drugged illusion.

And now, _it was losing_.

Disbelief made him stiff for a moment.

His pupils had to look dilated now. They would think it was fear. Panic.

He had the reasons to panic, did not he? A shitload of reasons, really.

He could see dust in the light. It was yellow and unnaturally bright.

_“Who gave you this?”_

The dust flew around touching his skin.

_“Who gave you this shit?”_

Oh, the lady was talking dirty now. He wondered how far it would go.

There was something familiar in those eyes. She was too confident, though.

And it wasn’t okay. Losing wasn’t okay.

His lips quivered giving a way to something more.

 _Not okay_ had to go.

The dust came closer, creating an itching feeling on his forehead.

Taking in and giving away.

It was the beginning.

It was the startup.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated!


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